


The Exquisite Corpse

by Winter_of_our_Discontent



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, EVERYONE knows Hannibal is thirsty for Will, M/M, Poor Life Choices, The meat is definitely people, Unhealthy Relationships, conversations over dinner, implied canonical character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 16:52:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_of_our_Discontent/pseuds/Winter_of_our_Discontent
Summary: Were he to ignore the conditions under which it took place, this dinner would doubtless have ranked as the best meal Abel Gideon had ever eaten.





	The Exquisite Corpse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shouldhavehoppedfaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldhavehoppedfaster/gifts).



‘ _Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau._ ’

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Of all the possibilities for those missing organs, this was one I hadn’t conceived of,” Abel said, gesturing towards his beautifully garnished leg, which now sat, completely divorced from his body, on a bed of leaves atop a silver platter on the table in front of him. “A lack of imagination on my part. Or perhaps on Chilton’s.”

 

“You’ve already lost the use of your legs, removing them is just one way of coming to terms with it,” Hannibal Lecter explained, voice soothing in a way that no doubt justified whatever exorbitant fees he charged per hour for his services. “As well as rendering them useful again.”

 

The tablescape was beautiful, laid out before him with the care of a floral arrangement, more of a sculpture than a centerpiece. Were he to ignore the conditions under which it took place, this dinner would doubtless have ranked as the best meal Abel Gideon had ever eaten. Though perhaps, he considered as he scooped out an oyster and brought it to his mouth, suffusing his tongue with a delicate, briny flavor, it was unfair to disqualify the meal simply because he was consuming his own leg while paralysed from the waist down, trapped in the house of a serial killer.

 

“You’ll make someone a wonderful husband one day,” Abel told the aforementioned killer, sharply dressed in a three-piece suit. Everything about Hannibal Lecter was sharp. His cheekbones, his remarks, his knives. “My late, lamented wife, rest her soul, could turn any meal into charcoal.”

 

“I hadn’t realised you were such a romantic, Dr. Gideon,” Hannibal said, pouring himself a glass of the almost too-sweet wine.

 

“Under the circumstances, I think we’re on a first name basis, don’t _you_ , Hannibal?” Abel replied. “And as they say, all relationships end in either death or divorce. I hardly need to be psychic… or a profiler… to know that ours is going to be the former. I suspect yours and Will Graham’s will be as well… the question is whose death will it be?”

 

The mention of Will Graham seemed to flip some sort of switch in Hannibal's head, transforming him from host to Ripper. A strange weakness for a serial killer to have, but then, love, as Abel knew so well, made fools of us all.

 

“I could be, you know. Will Graham.”

 

Hannibal paused, actually paused, the fork hovering in the air for an infinitesimally small moment before completing the journey to between his thin lips.

 

Abel continued. “I don’t know who I am anymore except that I’m not you, and even then I have my doubts. Neither does he. We’re both killers, both alumni of Frederick Chilton’s particular brand of therapy…” He pointed his index finger at his head and drew circles in the air, “I daresay I’m as much Will Graham as he is, these days. Just think about it… not The Will Graham but A Will Graham, at the mercy of your… hospitality.”

 

Hannibal was giving the matter serious consideration, Abel could tell, given that he hadn’t immediately killed him for suggesting it. “How would you benefit from this arrangement?”

 

“Over the last few years my stock of Abel Gideon has been a rapidly depleting resource, even more so at present,” Abel said, gesturing towards the main course. “And from what I can remember, it wasn’t terribly rewarding.”

 

“And you think being Will Graham will prove more rewarding?”

 

“Well, that’s rather up to you, isn’t it, Hannibal?” Gideon said, looking up at Hannibal with a familiar expression sitting oddly on unfamiliar features.

 

“Even knowing how this will end?”

 

“Oh, I’m Catholic. I’ve never believed in divorce.”

 

Hannibal lifted his glass, a small smile on his face. “To us, then.”

 

Abel smiled back. It wasn’t his smile, but it would be. “To _all_ of us, darling.”

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a prompt request given by a FannibalFest kickstarter backer.
> 
> Special thanks to lareinenoire and aerialiste!


End file.
